Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Jack felt a funny emptiness in his stomach.
Louis, as if he could sense the danger had passed, put his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
Instead of leaving the room, Simon dialed his phone with the hand that wasn’t under Puddles’ blankets.
“I just wanted to check on you,” he said. “I know. I know you can.” He rolled his eyes but his smile was fond. “No one is debating that, Jean. Because!” He laughed. “Yes, ma’am. Yeah. Just til the storm passes. Oh, okay.” His eyes flicked to Jack. “No you cannot! Goodbye, I love you,” he said quickly and hung up the phone.
“What can she not?”
“She wanted, um. To talk to you. And make sure you didn’t let me leave until the st-storm ended.”
Jack was charmed by that.
“I would’ve reassured her.”
Simon was blushing and had looked away.
“What?”
He shook his head. “She’s just... Never mind.”
He turned even redder.
“She’s just what?”
Simon buried his face in the bed like a little kid and spoke into the mattress.
“Didn’t catch that.”
Simon put his arms over his head in a gesture that was so adorable and ridiculous that Jack’s heart ached.
Cursing his leg for the umpteenth time, Jack lifted himself off the bed and came around to where Simon was. Simon’s comfort language was clearly touch and Jack wanted his body back so he could speak it fluently. Laboriously and slowly, he lowered himself to the bench at the foot of the bed to sit beside Simon and put a hand on his shoulder.
Making his voice light so Simon would have no doubt he was joking, he said, “Don’t make me call your grandma back myself.”
Simon groaned and peeled himself off the bed, but still wouldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. But he didn’t look shy, just embarrassed.
“She wants to play m-matchmaker,” Simon mumbled. His face and throat were flushed and lust tore through Jack. He wanted to be the one to bring that flush to Simon’s skin. He wanted to do everything to Simon.
“Is that right.” His voice was low and rough. He’d never gone from finding someone adorable to wanting to ravage them in five seconds flat and it was wreaking havoc inside him.
Simon’s head jerked up at his voice, eyes wide and hot.
“And why does she think we’d be a good match?” Jack drawled.
Simon blinked. Blinked again. His pupils dilated.
“I... Um, I... I might’ve, um.” He shook his head in frustration and squeezed his eyes shut. “I said you were handsome,” he whispered, eyes closed.
Handsome. The word ricocheted around in Jack’s brain before sliding sweetly down to rest in his chest. It was so unassuming, so...grandmotherly a word, but it was so very Simon.
Not attractive, not hot. Handsome.
“Thank you,” Jack said. “I think you’re handsome too.”
At that, Simon’s eyes flew open.
“Not just handsome,” Jack went on. He reached out a hand slowly—so very slowly—and traced Simon’s eyebrow, cheekbone, chin. “Gorgeous. Beautiful. Fucking stunning.”
Jack hadn’t thought it was possible for Simon to turn redder, but it was. His eyelashes fluttered wildly and he gulped.
“Wow,” he said on a breath.
Then he hiccoughed. He clapped a hand over his mouth but hiccoughed again. He groaned. Jack had never seen someone look so mortified in his life. This eclipsed even Charlie’s expression when their mom had found out he’d been reading the sex scenes in her romance novels.
Simon pulled his knees up and dropped his forehead to them. Jack couldn’t tell if he was hiding or trying to cure the hiccoughs.
Jack put a hand on his shoulder and when Simon didn’t shy away he began slowly rubbing Simon’s back. He could feel the hiccoughs as well as hear them. Simon muttered something to himself that Jack couldn’t make out. After a few minutes, Simon peeked at Jack.
“Doing okay?”
Simon glared and Jack laughed.
“Not my fault you’re gorgeous and your body revolts at a compliment.”
Simon smiled a little.
“I don’t suppose...” Jack started. But he lost his train of thought as Simon sat upright. The redness had faded to just a blush on his cheeks, and his hair was mussed. He was so damn beautiful.
Simon raised an eyebrow and Jack cupped his cheek.
“Don’t suppose you wanna kiss me?” Jack said, voice rough with desire.
Simon’s eyes went wide and his eyebrows shot up. But he pressed his cheek into Jack’s hand and Jack knew he wanted to. He waited. Simon’s eyes dropped to his mouth, then slid back up again. He licked his lips. He blinked. Finally, he leaned in.
Jack had kissed a fair few people in his life. In fact, if you’d asked him, he would’ve said that he’d sampled near every kind of kiss in the books.
But nothing had prepared him for the gutting sweetness of Simon’s lips slowly pressed to his; the brush of Simon’s long eyelashes against his cheek.
Simon pulled back, blinking at Jack, mouth parted sweetly.
“Okay?” Jack said.